One early afternoon, two young cats, just half a year from becoming adults, stood in front of each other. The tall, light brown grass waved at them as their tail-tips flicked in anticipation. One was a lean, long-furred tom with light tan fur and light brown stripes and tail-tip. He also had a white underbelly and paws. His bronze eyes gleamed with determination as his dark salmon pink nose twitched. His white whiskers twitched along with his nose as the smaller, slim she-cat took a pawstep forwards. Her beige fur would have perfectly camoufged her with the grass if it weren’t for the perfect cleanliness of her fur, which shone in the sunlight. One red-orange eye watched the tom’s still body, while the other one, a cobalt blue, noticed the slowly tensing muscles.

  The buzzing insects around the two were their crowd, cheering on their favorites and who would strike first.

  That was when the tom lunged forwards, cws sheathed, slow but powerful. He swiped at his sister’s muzzle, only ending up pawing at her whiskers.

  “No, Lyre, that’s not how you fight, silly.” The she-cat gently scolded him. “You have to move faster than that. Try to ignore the weight of your saggy fur.”

  Lyre lunged again, but the cat just stepped away. “If you keep attacking over and over again, you’ll only tire yourself out while your opponent just watches, waiting to strike when you’re out of energy.” She shook her head. “Like this.” In blinding speed, she shot out at him, headbutting his side and causing him to stumble, but not colpse.

  Lyre regained his bance and stared in awe. “Wow! Where’d you learn that?” He mewed excitedly.

  The she-cat self-consciously licked her fur. “I just watched this strange cat use that move on a gray and silver cat.”

  Lyre beamed. “I wanna try!” He dashed towards her, faster this time, and headbutted her fnk. She immediately stumbled over, and both of them giggled.

  “Hey guys!” A voice called as a white cat bounded up to them.

  “Dad!” Both young cats bounded over to their father, purring loudly.

  The white tom looked around, then lowered his voice. “You’re remembering to stay here, right?”

  Lyre took a pawstep back. “Why can’t we go to the den?”

  The white tom hesitated, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just understand that you must never go there until Mom or I say so.”

  “Wait,” The beige she-cat murmured, “but you’re able to come and go freely, and each time you're unharmed.”

  “Oh, Splinter…” As their dad shifted his gaze to his daughter, Lyre vanished into the grass and sniffed for his father’s trail. Once he found it, he stepped lightly as he followed it.

  It took a long while before the tall grass transformed into a bare patch of dirt. Lyre stepped onto it, each pawstep quickened in excitement and lifting a bit of dust.

  Then, id in front of him, was a steep, rocky slope on his right, and a wide, dark, menacing gap on his left. Out of curiosity, he stepped over to it, but before he could look down, the intense greenery on the other side took his eyes away from the gap. He stared, uncertainty and fear itching at his skin. Despite it being quite bright out, the forest still illuminated a darkness more intense than any shadow. He sniffed the air, but could only smell dryness and dust and dirt; all scents coming from the direction where he came.

  Ears perked up, he heard something faint snap. Uh, yeah. No thanks. He quickly turned his attention back to the gap.

  The fall wasn't even that far down. Or at least, it didn’t seem that way. The walls slowly sloped downwards and he could’ve sworn he saw a dirt ground, but it was covered by shadows. The gap was very wide, too; it would take the jump power of something ten times Lyre’s size to even be able to jump across such a thing. And even though he had his long fur, he was still nowhere close to becoming even twice his own size.

  His eyes scanned the dark depths, and found nothing but the same thing. For just a moment, he wondered what would happen if someone were to fall down. He started to get why someone would be so afraid.

  Pulling his head away, he looked back to his right and saw a huge sb of rock practically mixing with the dirt, and it was right next to the gap. Something else was there too; he could see it from the angle he was in. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at how the dirt from the hill was perfectly close to the rock, and made it look as if the rock was just randomly there.

  Suddenly a cat emerged from in between the rock and dirt hill, looking like it had just made a turn from somewhere.

  It was a gray cat with silver, swirly markings; it had silver paws, underbelly, and ear-tips. Its eyes were an ugly yellow-orange color. It stared at him, its light pink nose sniffing the air. The cat was as big as him- if you include his long fur- yet had short fur.

  The cat took a pawstep towards him. “Hello?” Its meow was high.

  Lyre’s tail lifted as he trotted towards the feline. He was about to open his mouth when he heard the sudden sound of cws hitting the rocks beside him. He snapped his head and saw his father, staring down at him in shock. He leapt down, past all the rocks, and nded on the ground with a light wince. He shook off his fur and stared at him.

  “Lyre!” He excimed quietly.

  Why’s he being quiet? Lyre sniffed.

  “I was wondering where you went. Don’t do that again, okay? What if one of those huge animals got you?” He pressed his head against his son’s cheek.

  Lyre smiled. “But they didn’t.”

  “Shh!” The white cat suddenly hissed, jumping back before gring at the gray and silver cat. Suddenly his expression softened. “Oh, it’s you. This is- uhm, where’s Prairie?” He sounded as if changing the subject would distract the young cat from the stranger.

  The cat’s eyes narrowed. “Prairie? Why…” Its fur bristled. “I knew it!” They suddenly vanished again.

  “Oh…” The white cat frowned.

  Another cat emerged. This one was dark ginger, and had dark rust paws and ears. Its tail-tip and was dark amber, and his nose was bck. The dark ginger cat’s light turquoise eyes looked at the white cat, then Lyre, curiosity quickly transforming into realization, then betrayal. The betrayed gaze held onto the white cat for an eerily long time before softening into forgiveness.

  The white cat didn’t dare meet the tom’s gaze.

  “What’s going on?” Lyre whispered.

  “Your mother…” The white cat began, “she…” He couldn’t speak. And judging by the hesitancy in his voice, he likely didn’t want to, either.

  The dark ginger tom’s deep voice spoke, the slightest hint of somberness hidden behind his firm tone. “Your mother, my mate, just proved something.” He turned back towards the dirt wall and disappeared behind it.

  Who was that? How come he had something to say about what's going on? What did my father do? Lyre’s rising anxiety came with his questions. And what did that dark ginger cat mean by Mom proving something? Proving what? He crouched low to the ground. He shut his eyes as he heard another set of pawsteps.

  “It’s okay. I’ll tell you everything when you’re older.” His father murmured above him before licking his ears reassuringly.

  But as he got older, his father seemed too wary to tell him, so he began figuring it out on his own.

  It was dawn. Lyre was inside of a small, dark den lined with fur. Pinecones lined the walls, and while the den itself wasn't bad, it was the smell Lyre and his sister, Splinter, had to get used to. Lyre’s legs ached uncomfortably from curling up every night. His ears refused to allow themselves to get fttened to the back of his head for the five hundred-forty seventh time.

  A whole year and a half had passed since the afternoon Lyre was reminded of every other day. Ever since then, Lyre and Splinter were allowed to see what was behind the rock wall, so maybe it was worth it. He was shocked to see that the dark ginger cat was still around Prairie, despite what she did. He never seemed to leave her side, which Lyre found a bit…he didn’t know- he knew nothing about retionships yet.

  Several months after Lyre and Splinter lived with the other cats, his father and the dark ginger tom would avoid and ignore each other. However, once about three more months had passed, all of the sudden the two would get into arguments every once in a while- until Lyre and Splinter heard they were getting yet another sibling.

  For the next year, the frequency increased to happening almost every night. The constant noise of fights between the two were worse than the recent rumors of desperate cries sounding from the gap.

  The arguments themselves, a majority of which were started by the white tom, were mostly just petty arguments about who Prairie loved the most. This went on for the next four months, and the worst part wasn't that the arguments weren’t that often; it was the fact that at some point it got so bad, they got into a physical fight.

  It was te at night, and in the moonlight, the white tom was practically glowing. The dark ginger tom was sitting with a calm but dark expression on his face, and his tail-tip was flicking.

  The two were on a rge, ft surface on top of the hill. And after three months of frequent arguments, the white tom had agreed to meet the other tom so they could figure things out themselves. The stars from above watched in anticipation. The crickets were chirping softly this time, as if murmuring among themselves.

  Then there was Lyre, ears pricked and body hidden among the grass as he watched the tension radiate off of the dirt clearing.

  “So,” the dark ginger tom started, “when did Prairie first decide to let you become her mate? And why hadn't I noticed?”

  The white tom puffed out his chest. “You’re clearly not much of an observer.” He meowed boldly. “Anyway, we’ve been doing this for at least a year.” At the sight of the tom’s hackles rising, he added with a cocky smirk, “It was actually about a few several months. Who would’ve known the first kittens she’d have wouldn’t be from you.”

  His tail didn’t sh; rather, he instead furrowed his brow. “Yes, but we were in the middle of working it out.”

  The white cat rolled his eyes. “Whatever. She loved me more than you, and you know it.”

  The tom just slowly shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes. “I just want to get an expnation as to why you decided to take advantage of our situation.”

  “She never loved you. Simple as that. That’s why she never tried having kittens with you.” He turned away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got kittens of my own to take care of.” He took a couple pawsteps forwards, only to suddenly stop, freezing in pce.

  The dark ginger tom crouched down, cws sliding out and digging into the dirt. “I’d hate to do this, but if you’re going to try taking Prairie away from me and not even apologize, then I’m justified for making this decision.”

  He jumped towards him, digging his right cws into the side of the white cat’s right hind leg. Then, with his left, he made a quick, brutal swipe, adding much more violent force once the cws on his left paw made contact.

  Lyre stared in horror as the white cat let out an ear-piercing shriek of pain as he tried to yank himself free. But by doing so, the white fur on his leg began turning a scarlet red, which darkened as he struggled more. His yowls of pain continued until finally the dark ginger tom released him.

  “What’s wrong with you?!” The tom snarled in between gasps of pain. Blood was oozing down his hind legs. He painfully sat in an awkward angle and began vigorously licking the wound on his leg.

  Thankfully it wasn't too bad, Lyre noticed, and at least the leg was still functionable. But what wasn't…

  The dark ginger tom took a quick gnce at the spot on the ground which was particurly the most bloody. He simply kicked dirt over it. He then turned towards Lyre’s direction, and for a quick moment Lyre froze too, afraid that he’d been spotted.

  “I do hope we now have a better understanding of what's going to happen from here on out.” The tom then calmly padded right past the young adult who was eavesdropping. But he stopped and took a few steps back until he was right beside him.

  Lyre began trembling. He couldn’t speak. Soon the otherwise gentle breeze of the wind became repced by the long, drawn-out breaths along his neck.

  “I can see you, you know,” he whispered. “Thanks to your white fur. You get that from your father, who’s a bad cat. Don’t let him further influence you.” He then turned and headed back towards the rock sb.

  Don’t let my own father influence me…what does that even mean? Lyre slowly emerged from the grass, which rustled softly as his fur brushed against it. Guilt stabbed his stomach as a gasp of shock, followed by a low groan of despair sounded from his father.

  His cobalt blue eyes stared bnkly at the blood-painted dirt ground. He looked at Lyre. “What are you doing here? Go back. Sleep.” He meowed slowly, painfully.

  Lyre didn’t know what to do. His head drooped as he held his father’s gaze for a bit longer, then turned back. To his surprise, the dark ginger cat was sitting again, staring at the two of them. Lyre shuddered as the tom beckoned him with his tail.

  Now, in the current early dawn, Lyre was still thinking about that fight, and what exactly had happened. He also noticed that his father was always sitting down with an uncomfortable look on his face.

  He sighed. Then a new sound made his ears perk up.

  “Prairie, I’ll be going somewhere. I don’t know when I’ll return, but I love you.” What followed was a murmur from Prairie.

  Lyre stared at the exit of the den, and right as he did, he saw a dark amber tail-tip flicking out of view.

  The following morning, and for the rest of the day, Lyre took a short nap. He was woken occasionally by his father, who gave him food that he and Splinter caught. By the time it became nightfall, that was when Lyre could finally sleep properly. He didn’t have to attempt to blot out the sound of frequent arguments and verbal fights.

  He was curled up peacefully next to Splinter, their bodies looking like little blobs of fur as they gently and slowly rose up and down.

  Lyre then awoke again, but this time to the cat who would allow him to go on an adventure, but at the cost of never being able to return home again.